


Bubblegum

by Cant_We_Just_Dance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Other, Plot Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_We_Just_Dance/pseuds/Cant_We_Just_Dance
Summary: Thomas wasn’t stupid, though, nor was he inexperienced. But he could never quite remember what it tasted like. Some days he felt as though it might be flavored honey, and others still he believed it to be as metallic as sucking on a blood-soaked penny, textured copper against his tongue. Today, kissing sounded like bubblegum. The way it snapped and popped and spun and found itself presented in so many different shapes called to him in a way that few others had done before. So today would be a bubblegum day, as yesterday had been a bottled water day, and last Thursday had been a pen cap day.Maybe bubblegum would taste like kisses.





	Bubblegum

Sometimes, Thomas wonders what kisses taste like.

He asks himself if they would have something startlingly artificial, akin to the way watermelon-flavored candies taste nothing like the fruit of their namesake. If it would feel like his lips were pressed against a strip of plastic, crinkling beneath him like a half-crushed water bottle, or perhaps something different. More than once, he has supposed that it could be a sharp kind of chill, the first breath outside in winter, snowflakes dotting his eyelashes and catching in his curls, spattering pale flecks into the dark cloud of coils. 

Thomas wasn’t stupid, though, nor was he inexperienced. But he could never quite remember what it tasted like. Some days he felt as though it might be flavored honey, and others still he believed it to be as metallic as sucking on a blood-soaked penny, textured copper against his tongue. Today, kissing sounded like bubblegum. The way it snapped and popped and spun and found itself presented in so many different shapes called to him in a way that few others had done before. So today would be a bubblegum day, as yesterday had been a bottled water day, and last Thursday had been a pen cap day.

Maybe bubblegum would taste like kisses.

Stepping out of his apartment and tucking his coat around his shoulders, pulling his arms through the sleeves, he opened his eyes to the winter sun. It wasn’t as bright as it had used to be. It wasn’t as bright as it had been when he lived in his little house at the end of the lane, with a bay window perfect for curling up next to, a blanket draped around their waists as they watched people hurry past. Days like that were in the past, though. He could go back to the little house, with the yellow window sills and pale green front door. He could unlock the door and step through, breathe in the scent of vanilla and old paper; he didn’t need to, though. What he needed right now was bubblegum.

The walk to the store was quiet, not a sound in the air nor bouncing around in his head, demanding to be heard. Nothing in his life had demanded to be heard for quite some time, so the lack of such a thing should not have bothered him. It did, anyway. Snow crunching beneath his heavy, trudging footsteps was no substitute for the seemingly never-ending flow of words. Such is the trouble with things that do not cease for small moments- when they disappear, they are gone, and the listener is not comforted with the knowledge that such a thing has happened before. Nevertheless, Thomas kept moving wordlessly until he reached his destination.

A small bell rang as he opened the door, as it always had, and a familiar face smiled at him as he walked through and shivered off the cold from outside and allowed the artificial warmth to embrace him. They did not exchange words, and they had no desire to do such a thing. Their desires, though different, had arisen at the same time. It was nice to have someone who understood, Thomas thought softly as he headed to the candy aisle, which was typically filled with small children racing about with friends or siblings. On frozen, snowy days like this, however, it was empty. Good. He didn’t feel like speaking, anyway.

Without much ceremony, he picked up a small plastic basket and began to place one of each flavor into it. The smooth plastic cover of each slid against his fingertips, only held in place by his nails, with small violet specks of polish left on them, remnants of a time when he’d had the ability to sit still for such things. Adding color to something already dark is useless. By the end, his basket had a mess of too-bright colors that contorted into a melted rainbow as he emptied them onto the conveyor belt at checkout.

Seven spearmint. Ten peppermint. Five ‘sour fruit’. Six ‘polar ice’. Ten watermelon. Five ‘tropical’. 

The man at the counter -John Laurens- didn’t say anything other than the total price, refusing to make eye contact with Thomas. That was why Thomas liked this store. Other places, they would make a snippy comment about his teeth rotting out from his purchases, or inquire as to why he needed forty-three packs of bubblegum, or ask if he was concerned about getting it in his hair. John Laurens, though- he understood. All that they needed was the robotic, methodical beeping of the items being scanned. He paid with cash, ignoring the pennies given back to him as he elected to pretend they didn’t exist. Laurens handed him the bag, nodded softly, and didn’t say anything as Thomas pulled his hood over his head and left the store. 

As he walked down the street and back home, he didn’t take any of the packs out of the bag, nor did he unwrap them. He wasn’t going to do this in public. This was for him, and no one else. Thomas knew it was for him. No one else needed to know, nor would they understand. And if they couldn’t understand, what was the point in even letting them attempt to do such a thing? There was no point. There hadn’t been much of a point to anything for a very long time, so why start now?

The elevator in his apartment was always rickety, making you feel like you were going up a rollercoaster rather than a building older than yourself, but he didn’t particularly mind. It was nice, living on the third floor. The last tenants there had been evicted, so it was mostly just Thomas there. He hadn’t been alone in a long time. He didn’t like it much, not that he’d admit to it.

He stepped out of the elevator and into his apartment, locking the deadbolt behind him as he collapsed onto the tattered sofa in the middle of his living room. Picking up one of the peppermint packages of bubblegum, he unwrapped it carefully, smoothing out the plastic covering onto the couch cushion beside him. He opened the pack, pulling out one of the pieces, and unwrapped it, crinkling the foil into a ball, just like he had as a child, savoring the flavors of a treat he wasn’t allowed to partake in. Popping the piece into his mouth, he chewed for a few moments before spitting it out in disgust.

Alexander’s kisses had never tasted like peppermint. But ever since Alexander had died, the taste of his kiss was forgotten.

So Thomas unwrapped the next flavor.

Maybe this one would let him remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments keep my heart going <3


End file.
